Fallout
by Moonkistforlife
Summary: By far, the most astonishing new thing the undead man has learned, is that Hanna Cross is wanted in several continents, and the government.  AU, no romance, action-only. Inspired by "Killers" the movie.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a Hanna is Not a Boy's Name Alternate Universe. It cannot fit into the canon plotline, or even timeline. Basically, I've just taken the characters and what we know about them so far, and thrown them into a situation.**

With this in mind, welcome to Fallout! It's been a DeviantArt based fic up until now, when I realized that some people dont go on DevArt for their ficfix. This AU will have **no pairings**, so if you're looking for romance, look elsewhere. That's pretty much it- so- enjoy!

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These not-so-epic-and-really-more-dangerous-than-fantastical cases were beginning to take their toll, not only the detective and his assistant, but also anyone within a ten mile radius. This time, Hanna escaped with little more than a few bruises and a large, thin surface scratch on his left arm. Conrad, however, had been much less fortunate. He had come out of everything with a broken ankle and a new grudge to add to the pile.

Somehow, in the flurry of wings, teeth, tiny claws, and girlish screams, the Fairies had decided to turn their attention on the pitiful excuse for a vampire with viciousness previously unseen. Hanna had apparently had enough; just as before, he had appeared, minus a shirt, in front of the mob of tiny shrieking horrors and wielded the magic marker as well as a knight with a sword. When the whole ordeal was over, Conrad was placed in the _ever so loving_ care of Doc Worth. Immediately after, both paranormal investigators walked back to the hole they called home (completely ignoring the shouts and curses already coming from the door, heard even a block away)

As they came into the apartment, Hanna strolled right over to the closet and went about changing his shirt, stained with a little blood and a couple almost unnoticeable claw marks. The undead man turned just in time to see Hanna facing him and tugging the shirt over his torso, heaving a sigh and placing a hand on his stomach. An obvious sign of hunger, and surely Hanna wouldn't stay quiet about it for long.

"Hey, let's order pizza to celebrate a job well done! I mean hey, we kind of made that huge hole in the roof, and the Fairies didn't exactly get captured, but these things happen, you know? We did the best we could and nobody could do better!"

That was how dinner was decided. The green-skinned man got the telephone number to the pizza place, and Hanna called up. "Double pepperoni, double cheese, stuffed-crust, extra large, yes we'll have Pepsi, no we don't want a . . . yeah, you know what, we'll take the wings too, if they're THAT cheap. . . .Cash, yeah. Okay, thanks!" Hanging up, the redhead turned to look at his undead friend and grinned.

"Man, that stuff is GREAT! I mean, you . . . oh. Well uh. You can't eat any . . . but . . . uhhh . . . it's still amazing! I bet you'd love it!" He gave his usual well-meaning grin, and at that moment the zombie knew he had to ask now. If he didn't, Hanna would roll into a topic that he couldn't get out of and then . . . well, after Hanna found something to talk about, there was no turning back.

"Hanna, why won't you tell me what happened to your chest?" this question was spurred on by the zombie's reflection on the events of the night, plus the sight of Hanna's horrible scar again. The few times he saw the industrial-grade staples and stretched skin, the sight brought up dozens of questions that mostly went silent the moment they reached his throat. Before he could even finish the sentence, though, Hanna was laughing and shaking his head, avoiding any and all eye-contact the man might be trying to make.

"What do you mean, why won't I tell you? I never said I wouldn't-"

"Hanna, you don't have to say you won't tell me. I know you won't. Whenever you do not want to address a subject, you sidestep it. Very obviously."

"Hahahaha, side-step? I have no idea what you mean. ANYWAY, do you think Conrad is gonna be -"

"See, there, you did it again."

"Did what?"

The zombie gave a sigh and shook his head. He gave up. He had tried to get onto this topic several times, but, never-

"I can't tell you because it's dangerous if I do. Dangerous for you."

The statement shocked Ignacius. Never had Hanna ever even revealed a snippet of a hint about anything as serious and confidential as this. Now that he heard such a mysterious tidbit, what was he supposed to . . ._do _with it? He didn't know if he should press it or not. If he did, there was a chance Hanna might never talk about anything like this again. If he didn't, any information that he might be able to get would pass him by with this singular chance to get at it.

Just as the zombie was about to open his mouth, there was a knock on the door. "Delivery!" a deep voice called out, and Hanna leaped from the couch, hand diving into his pocket and yanking out crumpled bills. "Coming!" he made the short trot to his door and opened it up.

Expectantly, Hanna paid the full twenty-seven-dollars with ones, and just as he took the pizza and went to push the door closed- the man had knocked him back. A Glock 17 9MM was pressed against Hanna's temple, and a nasty grin was on the delivery man's face.

"Hello there, Cross. As you already know, I can take you dead or alive, so I don't really _care _about your comfort." He hissed against the redhead's ear, as Hanna stayed frozen, back against the stranger's chest, trying to stay calm and breathe and remember all that training from so long ago.

"Ignacius, don't move, I-"

"Oh, my, my. You really _are _stupid. They weren't kidding. See, I said I didn't care about your comfort, which means nothing you say or do is going to save you. Be a good boy and come quiet now, yeah? Maybe you'll live longer than originally intended." Hanna grit his teeth as the man let out a disgusting laugh and pushed the cold metal harder into his skin.

Ignacius was stone still and staring at the scene with absolute terror by now. There was a gun. A igun/i. And Hanna. There was no way out of this. What was going on? Why was someone trying to _kill_ Hanna!

"I got this, Ignacius, don't worry." He said lowly, eyeing his friend in a sort of affirmative it's-go-time way. Ignacius had no idea at all what Hanna could possibly do in this situation, but he had to trust the man. Even in such a dark, frightening hour, he would have to trust him.

In a flash, Hanna was jerking his foot back and up, into the man's crotch. The pizza delivery man was prepared and ended up just wincing and brushing it off, twisting at Hanna's hand, which had gone to knock the gun out of the way. He slammed the investigator against the door and gave a vile laugh, the gun now pushed between locks of bright orange-red hair.

"Do you think the color of your blood will contrast nicely with the hair? I think so. Let's find out."

Click. Boom.

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Enjoy the ride? :D Hope you'll be back for more! Reviews are /loved/, as is fanart, but I'm not pushing for anything.  
*Thanks to Digi-Writes-Fanfics on DeviantArt for betaing!


	2. Chapter 2

In the nanosecond between the booming of the bullet shooting from its barrel and the sound of scuffling and grunting, Ignacius thought that the feeling he was experiencing was similar to dying all over again. He stared at the place where Hanna and the delivery man had been just seconds ago, and saw only a bullet-sized hole in the wood. Somehow, Hanna had dodged that bullet. What the-

"Ricardo! MOVE!"

From his left, Hanna came hurling through the apartment, lashing out at the man with the gun. There was a clattering of metal and the Glock 17 went skidding across the room. Frozen with not only shock, and fear, but confusion as well, the zombie could only stay pressed tightly against the wall for a few crucial seconds. He watched the two young adults grapple and punch, scratch and kick to get away, to get to the gun first, and stared down at it, only a foot away from him. He took a split second to hesitate, and then he bent and picked it up, though was startled by the weight and stared hopelessly at the two. Through the chaos, the breaking objects and everything else, Hanna seemed to gain control over the situation and was now sitting on top of the man's back, twisting one of his arms in a way the zombie was sure an arm was not supposed to twist. There was a deafening cracking sound, followed by three more, and the man was screaming in pain, but muffled by the thick, dirty carpeting.

Hanna looked over at Ricardo and held out his hand, panting. His lip and nose were bleeding, his eye was slightly swollen, and his face was a bit red.

"I need the gun, Andrew."

"Are you going to..."

"Just give me the gun, okay?"

So without any questions, the undead man handed the weapon over and watched with anxiety as the redhead placed the gun to the delivery man's shoulder.

"Are you going to give me answers to my questions, or am I going to have to fucking take your limbs off with bullets?"

The man just moaned and shook his head. Hanna sighed and rolled his eyes.

"How many others are there?"

"Ugh. More than you can escape from, hahahaha,"

"NUMBERS, not fucking retorts!"

"Aah!" Hanna had pressed the gun hard into the man's broken shoulder. "I don't KNOW numbers! Why the hell would I know numbers!"

"Because-" Hanna froze, and stared at the back of the man's head. "Shit. You aren't working for the …"

"No, I'm not working for the government, Cross. But every single hit man in the country officially found out as of yesterday that there's a bounty on your head. The government is sure to send out their own little roaches, but I'm not one of 'em."

Hanna didn't let his eyes wander from the back of the man's head. The zombie didn't move a muscle. Everything was still and silent for a few seconds.

"Hanna, what…?"

"Get whatever you need to take, Martin. We've got to leave. Now."

Stupidly, the injured man decided to interject. "Running won't do any—"

"Shut UP!"

A loud bang, and the man was silent beneath Hanna, who tossed the gun down and immediately went about zooming around the small apartment.

"Hanna…is he….?"

"No. Just knocked out. We need to get out of here. We need to be far gone before he wakes up. Don't ask questions/i, just go."

So once more the undead man put all his trust in Hanna, and moved around the apartment at a fast pace, packing essentials to survive; canned and dry goods, blankets, water bottles, his own stash of saved-up money in the very few odd night jobs he did have in the past. He hardly paid attention to the redhead who was doing the same thing, only, with very different essentials. By the time the zombie was finished and staring at the male, Hanna was holding a black duffle bag and setting it down ontop of the mattress, sighing as he shoved a handgun down the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over the once-visible handle.

"Ready?"

"Yes…"

Hanna gave him a strange look, suddenly. A sad look, almost as though he were apologizing, but at the same time, aching for his companion to stay in blissful ignorance. It was a fleeting sort of glance that lasted half a second, as they sped out the door and into the night, Hanna immediately put into action mode. His cell phone, large and old and barely working, was tossed into the street carelessly, where Martin saw it crunched to death by the weight of cars zooming by.

Hanna yanked out a rather flashy little silver cell phone that seemed quite complicated for just a communication device, and pressed just a few buttons before holding it up to his ear. He looked around a little nervously as they moved in large, hurried strides down the city sidewalks, crossing streets sometimes and deliberately staying in crowded areas.

"Lamont?"

"Yeah?"

"It's happening again."

Again? So this sort of thing had happened before? Poor Martin was so lost. He had no clue what to say or do now, if anything, but he knew that above all else he just wanted answers.

"Damnit. All right, well, everything's set in motion as of right….this…second. Okay. Go to The Rabbit Hole, tell Jimmy your car is parked outside but you locked the keys in the back seat. Use those exact words, Hanna."

"All right. Thanks Lamont."

Hanging up, Hanna turned down a different street and took them to the popular bar. The zombie dared not to ask questions yet. Once they were settled in somewhere that Hanna felt safe, he would start the mini interrogation he set up in his head. This was beyond concerning. This was downright terrifying.

So they entered the bar, and upon saying the phrase, 'Jimmy', a waiter apparently, slid them a napkin with three keys inside. "All right, here's the spare. Take care of yourself now, you got just four nights left." Jimmy sighed, shaking his head at Hanna and turning back to his customers.

Hanna and the zombie then went outside, and Martin stared at the napkin, then at Hanna. Hanna blinked.

"Four nights left? What?"

"I thought you would know, Hanna."

"Well, I should, but…it's…he's not supposed to…"

"What are you trying to get at?"

"Well, uh. He's supposed to, er. Help us leave town. But giving me three keys and telling me I have four nights left doesn't do that."

The zombie thought pretty hard about this for a few seconds, and glanced to their left.

"Perhaps it means exactly that…? You only have four nights left…?"

Hanna frowned and shook his head. That couldn't be right. There was some codeword in there or something. Something they were missing.

Hanna's train of thought deterred several times, into territories that really had nothing to do with the mystery clue they were given. Eventually, however, he arrived at the conclusion that the code was not literal and had to be, in fact, de-coded.

Hanna looked down to the left, and saw a beat up old black mustang. Everything in this part of town was beat up, but mustangs? Nobody drove mustangs. Not around here. That must be the car. But how did that translate into the code? 'Four nights left'. Four…lights, rights, heights, tights, kites…no, why would it rhyme? Furrowing his brow in confusion, Hanna stared at the car, and then hesitantly, counted four paces and ended up right at the passenger side door.

"Simple enough." He grinned and unlocked it, sliding the duffle bag in the back seat. He proceeded to open the driver's side door, get in, and buckle up. The zombie raised a brow skeptically as Hanna started the car and moved into the streets. Was he even licensed to drive? It was doubtful, but right now was not the time to question Hanna's driving capabilities. There were other, more pressing matters at hand.

Silence overwhelmed the car. Hanna tapped with his thumbs nervously on the steering wheel. He had tried to turn the radio on five minutes ago, but no dice. It was dead broken. It was inevitable; he knew his friend was going to start asking questions sometime or other, and now was the perfect time, since they were in an enclosed space and-

"What is going on, Hanna?"

They had only been driving for about twenty minutes now, and Hanna really had no idea how to side-step this question. He was hoping that somehow they could get to a safe house and things would go back to normal; he wouldn't have to tell Paul anything. But of course, such a fortune would not grace Hanna, and he heaved a sigh, as they continued to drive at a sort of hopelessly fast speed. They were far over the posted speed limit, but in the outskirts of the city it didn't seem to matter.

"Nothing, really, Paul. It's just, you know, one of those…things."

"Hanna, this is certainly not just nothing/i. This is something/i, something very bigand important. Why won't you tell-"

"Ohhh, heylook, it's Lamont!" Hanna was so delighted for a distraction, that he almost dropped his phone in his haste to answer it.

"Lo?"

"Hanna, we've secured this line. Un-tappable, I guess you could say? Heheheh. Anyway, uhhh-" Lamont's clear voice was interrupted by a distant, but distinct and very audible shouting in the background.

"GODDAMNIT HANNA, TH' FUCK ARE YEH DOIN' NOW! GETTIN' EVERYONE ALL RILED UP 'N SHIT, YAH OWE MEYA LITTLE-"

"Heheheheheh, sorry Hanna- uh, anyway, so you're going to get to the safe house now. Make sure you have a full tank, and head out to Eastend. You're gonna have to make another stop at a bar called The Pink Elephant, and-shut up, Worth, of course it's a real place-and then you're going to order a bloody mary."

"Augh, I don't even like-"

"Hanna, that really doesn't matter. Call me when you have the drink."

Click. So Hanna had no choice in the matter of what alcoholic beverage he got to enjoy. With a heavy sigh, Hanna dropped the phone in his lap and kept driving, completely ignoring his tank. Which was almost on empty.

"The Pink Elephant?" Was all his companion said, staring ahead at the road.

"Yeah, apparently we got another coded message there or something. Augh. If you liked bloody marys, I would totally give you mine, but…what…? Aw. Crap. We're gonna break down in a sec."

Sure enough, the car rolled to a relative stop. Hanna moaned and tilted his head back until it hit the seat. It was when he opened his eyes from this vantage point, however, that he saw what would save them.

"Ohhey, there's a gas station. Convenient."

"Mm." If Hanna were paying attention, that was what he called the zombie's 'suspicious' sound.

"C'mon, Proithias, help me push the car."

Again, Proithias seemed skeptical. Hannawas going to push a car/i? Not that he doubted the man hadn't tried before, but he couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds, and that kind of body stature was going to push nothing more than maybe a small ice cream cart. So, he figured that he was going to be doing a lot of the work; which didn't bother him in the slightest, as usual. However, what did bother him was seeing Hanna struggle the way he did. He was reallytrying very hard. Sweat was collecting on his brow and his hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyes were squeezed shut and his knuckles were white. Hanna was really giving it his all. It almost made Proithias feel kind of guiltythat, with just a little effort, he was able to get the car to the station and lined up with the hose.

"I gotta go in and pay. Cash and all that. I'll be right back. Don't catch on fire or anything, hahahaha!" Hanna was trying hard not to sound out of breath, as he casually swiped his hand across his face and dashed into the gas station's mini-mart.

The redhead was gone before the zombie could understand what he had been trying to make a joke out of. The green-skinned man leaned back against the side of the car and looked around slowly. This place was deserted. The only reason that wasn't suspicious was because of how empty this part of the city was- if they were even in the city anymore. It didn't look like it. Even when Hanna came running back out and hurried to fill up the tank, the zombie did not give his surroundings much thought. He clearly should have.

"Hey…what the…what's…augh. Something's wrong with the pump." Hanna frowned as he jiggled and tugged at the hose and the trigger. The gasoline wasn't flowing the way it should, and instead, it was a steady leak instead of a stream. "I'll be back, sorry bro." He sighed and slumped back into the mini-mart, returning just a minute later with a burly man. He wore a white t-shirt with the gas station logo printed in the corner, as well as a pair of jeans and sturdy, worn-out boots. The zombie surveyed him, unsure of the man's presence at all; the pizza delivery man had looked innocent enough, and so did this guy. But what were the chances of the same thing happening twice?

"Thanks for coming out here. Listen, uhhh, it's just not pumping gas."

"Eh? Oh, that's strange. Wassyer name again?"

"Uhh…Hanna…"

"Haha, Hanna? Really? Ya serious?"

Hanna rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"That's stupid. Hanna's not a boy's name. Hahaha, man, yer parents must've been pretty dense."

Hanna winced. "Anyway, about the gas…"

"Oh, right, yeah. You won't be needing any."

"What?"

"Sucker."

In the next minute, maybe less, Hanna was taking action. He stared wide-eyed at the gas station attendant for a fraction of a second before beginning to shout orders like a marine corps sergeant.

"Orion, get the bag outta the back! HURRY!"

Hanna gave the attendant a solid kick right to the chest, sending the sturdy man tumbling to the floor. As he scrambled to get up, Hanna had drawn the handgun from his pants and was pointing it square at his head, breathing hard from adrenaline and nerves.

"Hahahahaha, I don't care if yah kill me! Yer gonna be DEAD soon, and my end'a the deal is sealed once that happens!"

The zombie was now stumbling a little as he grabbed both the black duffle bag and his own backpack from the car, standing by Hanna's side.

"Run. As fast as you fucking can/i."

But the undead man stayed put. "No. Unless you're running with me."

"I have to get information from this—"

"Hanna- HANNA/i! MOVE!"

He noticed the man on the floor pulling out a lighter, and it then registered that the gas leak had still not stopped. The flammable liquid was coating Hanna's shoes, all over his hands, certainly soaked into the edges of his pants. The zombie, too, was covered in gasoline- how had he not noticed? There was no time. They couldn't possibly get far enough away from this place before the attendant could toss the lighter mere inches away and burn them all to a crisp. What was Hanna thinking? Was he just going to settle for this fiery death?

Hanna pulled from his jeans something that would seem completely useless in a time like this, but in the hands of the redhead, this magic marker was anything but useless. With a quick scribble here and there, the man tossed the marker to his partner and tucked his gun away again.

"Hanna, what am I supposed to-"

"Give me your arm."

The two stood there for a split second and Hanna scribbled on the undead man's arm just as the man with the lighter decided he had waited long enough. In moments he had tossed the flame into a pool of gas, and with a whoosh, the entire place was lit in flames. The second the gas station flames roared to life, the runes Hanna had drawn glowed so vibrantly it hurt even the zombie's eyes to stare down at them, try as he might. Somehow, Hanna was now taking his arm and hauling him into the road. Somehow, they were completely unscathed.

Hanna felt very, very hot, and the zombie felt a warming sensation throughout his entire undead body. There were burn marks beginning to form on their limbs, but they hurt far less than actual burns. Well, to the zombie, anyway.

Hanna, however, was gasping for air and fell to his knees as they reached a safe distance on the other side of the road, staring at the flaming building with a weary look on his face. One of pain and exhaustion.

"Hanna?" the zombie inquired, leaning down on one knee, setting the bags aside and placing a hand on his back. Hanna hissed in pain and arched away from the touch, though tried to give a smile with gritted teeth.

"Heheh, I'm fine, Addicus, I just- aaah- the runes- they uhh, have a negative side-effect on—people- well, hahaha, live people- owowowowwww…"

Addicus, worried, gently pried the cell phone from Hanna's pocket and looked through the contacts, trying his best to block out the hissing sounds of Hanna in absolute anguish. He found Lamont's number in moments and was on the phone in less than that.

"Hanna, are you already at-"

"It's me."

"Oh…uhhh..hi…"

"Listen, Hanna used some kind of rune- and now he's in really bad shape- I'm not sure…what to do with him."

"What? Oh. Oh shit. Well. Where are you guys?"

"I have no idea. A gas station outside the city limits."

"A gas station? …There's nothing outside the city limits. Literally. Absolutely nothing. They got rid of the only gas station out there years ago."

The zombie stared at Hanna, and then at the flames before them.

"Apparently, they rebuilt it. For a very specific purpose."

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Sorry it took so long to update! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. :D Reviews are /loved/, but I'm not pushing for anything.  
*Thanks to Digi-Writes-Fanfics on DeviantArt for betaing!


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